


An Unhappie Expierience

by SquaresAreNotCircles



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: M/M, Pies, Really Bad Puns, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:51:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2953025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquaresAreNotCircles/pseuds/SquaresAreNotCircles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason attempts to convey his feelings for Pythagoras by way of baked goods. It doesn't go quite as planned.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>    Hercules emerged from his room, probably drawn out by the smell of food. His eyebrows shot up while looking at the T. “Why in the name of the Gods do we own a penis shaped cake?”</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>     “It’s a pie,” Pythagoras helpfully supplied. “Jason made it.”</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unhappie Expierience

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative titels were Fiascake, Cakelamity and The time Jason baked a Latin Caketastrophe for Piethagoras. PLEASE FORGIVE ME.
> 
> I suppose this is pre-slash, btw, since there's no actual kissing or even admitting they like each other in here. It's just Jason being an idiot and Pythagoras smiling at him and Hercules rolling his eyes at record speed and the cakepiething most likely having an identity crisis in silence because it's very confusing when people can't make up their minds. Oh, and remember how the BBC decided to conveniently forget that Jason came from the 21st century? I decided to conveniently forget that they decided to forget that.

There were two things Jason knew for sure he wasn’t very good at. The first was admitting his feelings to someone he liked. He didn’t know if there was anyone on earth, present or future, who would prefer such a thing to being chased by hunting lions, but it wasn’t him. This meant he would have to find another way to communicate his desire to do non-platonic touching with Pythagoras, which in itself wasn’t a problem, because he had plenty of creative ideas.

Unfortunately, the other thing Jason wasn’t very good at was baking. He would never have been on The Great British Bake Off in the 21st century, and he definitely wasn’t winning any prizes now, when he couldn’t even turn to Google with important questions like _how to make chocolate cake not look like burnt poop_. But this time he had a reason for what he was doing other than sheer boredom, which motivated him to do his very best. As it turned out, while his very best still resulted in something slightly more black around the edges than it was supposed to be, he apparently wasn’t completely unable to bake something edible when he followed the recipe closely, even with Atlantis’s stone age methods. The shape was right, anyway, which was the important part.

Which meant it was time to call for Pythagoras, who had been watching Jason putter around the kitchen area curiously all afternoon, but had been forbidden from looking too closely at what he was doing. Together they cleared the table and Jason ceremoniously placed the plate in the centre. A clean dishtowel covered his creation, so as to not spoil anything.

Pythagoras looked at him expectantly. Jason looked back. He lifted the towel.

A smile formed on Pythagoras’s face and Jason’s heart jumped, because _yes_ , maybe this time he had finally gotten it right and Pythagoras understood his intentions for what they were. But then Pythagoras opened his mouth and Jason’s happy bubble burst.

“You made a cake!”

“No,” he said, unable to keep the slight disappointment out of his voice. “It’s not cake. It’s pie.”

“Oh, of course.” Pythagoras nodded, but it was clear he agreed to humour Jason rather than because he understood the importance of it being a pie. “Why does it have that funny shape?”

“It’s two letters.”

Pythagoras frowned, but then he nodded again. “Ah, you’re right, this one is obviously tau. And the other one looks like, er, omega? Theta?”

“What? No, they’re just a Q and a-” And a T, but the realisation what an idiot he’d been hit Jason before he could get that out. How had he expected someone from ancient Greece to be able to read a Latin alphabet? 

Although, thinking about it, that might not even have been such a weird idea - after all, there had never been any language barriers before, even though he’d spoken English his whole life before he came to Atlantis. He was pretty sure that in the period in history he was in now, that language hadn’t even developed yet in its modern form. He’d always been able to converse with the Atlantians without any trouble, but apparently whatever magic had caused that, hadn’t been cunning enough to make him switch written alphabets as well.

He stared at the ceiling, as if that made it more likely that whatever deity he was ninety percent sure intervened in his life on a regular basis would hear him, and frowned. “What the hell, that’s just really inconsistent.”

“Jason?” Pythagoras looked a little worried now. “Is everything alright?”

Jason stared at the ceiling forlornly for a moment longer, but then he shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine. We must have a knife around here somewhere, right?” He turned his back on Pythagoras to find something to cut the QT pie.

Hercules emerged from his room, probably drawn out by the smell of food. His eyebrows shot up while looking at the T. “Why in the name of the Gods do we own a penis shaped cake?”

“It’s a pie,” Pythagoras helpfully supplied. “Jason made it.”

Hercules snorted. “Were you trying to send us a message, Jason?”

“Yes,” Jason answered, too annoyed to think about if that was a smart thing to say or not. He turned around with the knife he’d found in a drawer in his hand. Hercules and Pythagoras both looked at him with wide eyes and he tried to hold the knife a little less like he was about to stab someone. “The message isn’t that I’m about to castrate you, don’t worry.”

Pythagoras blinked. “So they’re not letters, but that one’s a- a-” 

“Penis,” Hercules finished. “You’ve got one, Pythagoras, you’re allowed to say the word.”

“No!” Jason said, striding over to the table. He almost waved a hand through the air to underline his point, but he realised in time that he was still holding a sharp and slightly scary object. 

“I’m not allowed to say the word?”

“No - I mean, yes, you are, but no, that’s not what I meant.” Gods, this whole endeavour was a train wreck. But he’d better not mention that, because then he’d have to make up some story about what trains were and why they’d been wrecked. “What I meant was _no_ , it’s not _that_.”

Pythagoras looked faintly relieved at that. “Then what is it? Were the letters of the cake supposed to send the message?”

“It’s a pie,” Jason said flatly. He cut into the thing, because he was in the kind of mood where it seemed like doing something destructive would make him feel better, and also because it was pie and therefore it needed to be divided into pieces anyway. Hercules winced a little as Jason neatly sliced the T in half. “I made it for you,” he admitted to Pythagoras.

“For me? You baked me a ca- a pie?” Pythagoras’s face lit up. “That’s really sweet.”

Jason smiled back and sighed a final time, but content instead of exasperated. He could live with that reaction. 

Hercules, however, narrowed his eyes and looked from Pythagoras to Jason and finally with suspicion at the pie, as if it could jump at him at any moment. “I have a feeling penises play a bigger part in the existence of this cake than you’re letting on.”

Jason pretended not to hear him.


End file.
